


Inebriety

by rayn (Rayn)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayn/pseuds/rayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some drunken silliness</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inebriety

It started with Laura. He hadn’t meant to get attached in all honesty. After all, they’d both said casual. They’d both agreed to fun and easy, and most importantly, no strings. There was something distinctly comfortable though, about waking up with the same person in your arms every morning. 

Laura didn’t seem to think so though. Monday morning’s routine had been punctuated by the clack of heels down his front walk down the walk for the very last time. It was not promising to be a very good week. 

Tuesday, Riza found the paperwork Roy had carefully hidden on the top shelf of the supply closet. She proceeded to decide that it was in everyone’s best interest if he finished it right then. It was seven in the evening and his fingers were next to numb when she finally took pity on him and suggested that perhaps he could finish the other half tomorrow. 

Wednesday, Havoc had a date. He didn’t actually _care_ that Havoc had a date except that he was tired and his fingers hurt and Havoc wouldn’t shut up. Roy nodded and pretended to listen while he signed papers under Hawkeye’s watchful eye. He never hated writing his name so much as he did at that particular moment. Speaking of names, Havoc picked that particular moment to mention his date’s name. Roy slammed the office door. 

Thursday, Hakuro slapped a mission file down on his desk with a barked order to “handle it”. Even before he flipped open the folder, Roy was pinching the bridge of his nose. It was one of those things Ed would have been _perfect_ for, taken care of in five minutes, and only blown up a building or two in the process. Ed, however, was gone. He’d restored his brother and when his contract expired, there was nothing to motivate him to renew it. His pocket watch sat insidiously in the top, right hand drawer of Roy’s desk even now. Every once in a while, on days like this, he looked at it and wondered. 

Friday, the coffee pot was broken. He still hadn’t come up with anyone to take the mission. His sleep muddled mind seriously considered begging Ed to come back, if only so he’d have someone to fob off missions like these on. Roy cringed almost immediately, deciding his battered ego could not actually handle Ed laughing at him this week.

The day went downhill, and by the end of it, Roy was ready to crawl in bed for the weekend and forget the last few days had ever happened. His bed, however, still smelled like someone else, and he was too tired to try to rectify this _before_ going into hiding. He settled for the next best thing.

Linnwood Tavern was a quiet, out of the way place. Less rowdy than its downtown counterparts, there was little chance of running into his team here. At least he could sulk in peace. 

Once upon a time, he’d come here practically weekly with Hughes. Soft music played in the background and the barmaids were unobtrusive. It gave the whole place a muted feel. 

Roy slid into a seat at the same table he always did. Even on Friday nights, it was always empty off in its little corner. With a heavy sigh, he stared at the empty chair across from him. It promised to be one of those nights. 

He waited patiently for the waitress. It wasn’t as if his melancholy would get tired of waiting to be drowned out and disperse of its own accord. There was a shadow darkening the tabletop though, and a shot glass being slid across its surface at him. When whoever it was didn’t bother to have the decency to let him be, he looked up, about to point out that he hadn’t actually ordered anything. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. By the time it he gathered up the wits to actually say something, Ed was taking a seat in the empty chair. 

“F…ullmetal?” Roy blinked at the familiar face, almost forgetting to be sullen for a moment. In the low, tavern lights he fairly glowed, his eyes a warmer shade of gold than Roy could quite remember ever seeing them. His hair was down around his shoulder, looking for all the world like a sheet of satin. Time had treated him well, the severity of his childhood all but gone from his soft features. Perhaps it was just jealousy, magnified by his own misery, but Roy might have almost called him beautiful just then. 

“The fuck happened to you? You look like shit.” And just like that, the spell was broken. Ed’s foul mouth shattered the illusion that there was anything sweet about Edward. He watched Roy with a sharp sort of gaze that made Roy want to squirm under the scrutiny. 

“It’s been a long week,” Roy replied noncommittally. He wasn’t entirely certain he liked being the subject of Ed’s undivided attention, but a vague concession seemed wiser than outright denial. 

“It usually is,” Ed replied, his tone almost commiserating. It was hard to tell if he was exhausted or just bored as he leaned back in his seat. The way he sprawled in his chair drew Roy’s attention, if only to the way Ed was finally in something less gaudy than crimson and leather. His tee-shirt pulled taut across his chest, and eight months out of the military had apparently done little damage to his physique. 

“Do I have something on my shirt? I mean… there was a little accident at the lab today, and I _thought_ I transmuted it all out but…” Ed trailed off, looking sheepish. Were he himself, Roy would have found it the perfect opportunity to turn this around and regain the upper hand. He was _tired_ though, and it was all he could do to take that as a gentle reminder that he was openly staring at Ed. He yanked his gaze up to confused, golden eyes. 

Roy scrambled for something. Ed didn’t appear to be going away and god, why hadn’t the waitress come by, because he _really_ needed a drink. He was eventually saved from having to respond because the waitress picked then to finally show up.

It was bad enough to be sulking in public because he didn’t want to go home. It was infinitely worse to do it under the scrutiny of Edward Elric, who didn’t seem inclined to do anything but inflict his presence on Roy. He needed to be a great deal less sober for his ego to withstand that particular hit, so whiskey it was. 

Ed snorted at him, and Roy scowled, because who did this kid think he was anyway? He was about to say something snappish, but Ed was rambling off an order for two of something he’d never heard of like he’d been doing this for years. By the time the waitress left, it didn’t seem worth bitching about. 

The waitress returned a few moments later, whiskey and two shot glasses of something Roy didn’t recognize in hand. She set them both in front of Ed, only for him to push one across the hard wood table top. Roy eyed the incriminating liquid doubtfully, finally asking, “What is it?”

“Stronger than whiskey,” was all Ed deigned to answer before knocking his back. To his credit, he took it like water, leaving Roy to wonder when exactly Ed had found the time to hone his drinking skills. 

Ed didn’t _say_ anything about the fact that Roy had yet to touch the shot glass. He hardly needed to. The skeptical look he gave Roy was the last straw, and he gave, swallowing it down before he could second guess himself. The alcohol burned, a searing heat that slid down the length of his throat, but it settled the same as anything else. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all. 

“So what brings you here?” Roy finally ventured, setting the empty shot glass down. He wrapped his fingers around the tumbler still full of whiskey, as much because he could hide behind it as anything else. 

“Eh, you know. Long week and all,” Ed replied, punctuating the response by waving his shot glass so widely Roy thought he was going to hit someone. By some miracle he didn’t, and the shot glass made it safely to the table with a loud clatter of glass on wood. 

The conversation was awkward, stilted bits and wary glances, neither really sure how to broach the fact that they were drinking together. Ed hardly counted as a child after all, and Roy couldn’t very well pester him about his current project without admitting to having maybe kept tabs on him just a teensy bit. _That_ seemed like a disaster of a thing to let on. 

It seemed only natural to have another drink, something to make his shoulders stop scrunching of their own accord. Ed waved the waitress over like the bar was his second home, and the way she sidled over, a friendly smile across her lips suggested that maybe it was. He ordered another shot and the waitress glanced over at Roy. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Roy murmured, managing to ignore the cryptic look Ed gave him until the waitress had walked away.

“You sure about that? It catches up to you pretty quickly…” Ed muttered doubtfully. 

Roy gave Ed a baleful look, all but biting out, “I’ve got at least a dec… few years experience at this on you. I think I know my own limits.”

Ed shrugged, settling into his seat and tipping his head back a bit. It exposed the smooth line of his throat, and Roy was so distracted wondering when any of Ed’s features had gotten to be anything remotely elegant, that he nearly missed what Ed was actually saying. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re flat on your stupid, smug face.”

It seemed silly to be holding onto his whiskey like a shield between the two of them, and not actually using it for its intended purpose. He was just beginning to feel a little warm as he took a sip of it, carefully avoiding a cool chunk of ice. This was far more his style, comfortable territory despite the fact that Ed was still watching him, going on about something. 

“You drink like a wuss,” Ed decreed loftily, rolling his eyes, button nose turned up a bit. Roy set the tumbler down, a bit of it gone, a retort caught on his lips and refusing to make itself heard. He was left to try to muddle through when alcohol had started hitting him so quickly. 

His head was a bit light when the waitress returned, and Roy almost thought better of taking it. After all, he’d come here to dull his troubles, not drown them, and home wasn’t a terribly convenient walk from here. Ed was _looking_ at him though, his eyes narrowed in something like speculation, and Roy’s ego swallowed down another shot of something that threatened to suffocate him when his better judgment would not. 

He was nearly tipsy enough not to notice young woman a few tables away, staring appreciatively at Ed. Had Roy not been acutely aware of what Ed had had to drink, and the effects thereof, he’d have mistaken him for entirely sober. Only the faint vacancy to his stare gave any hint at all that he wasn’t at full capacity. Roy nodded faintly in the direction of the girl. “I think you’ve got someone’s attention. You ought to buy her a drink or something.”

“Sure,” Ed grumbled, “If I wanted her to come over here.” 

“Why not? She’s pretty and obviously interested,” Roy pointed out, though even tipsy, it sounded like rather faulty reasoning where Ed was concerned. 

“I _hate_ that googly eye crap. You like her so much _you_ buy her a drink. If I wanted to go… go flirt with some girl or whatever, I’d damn well be over there, now wouldn’t I?” Ed was straight to the point, as usual. It was a relief, actually, to find at least one thing had not changed. 

Three shots in and Roy was beginning to forget why exactly it was strange to be sitting across from Ed. Four and an automail hand wrapped gruffly around his whiskey tumbler as Ed insisted on showing Roy “how it was done.” For a moment he thought Ed was going to drop the glass, but the automail was steady, even if Ed himself was not. Roy watched in helpless, half drunken interest as Ed’s lips parted, sucking down whiskey until all that was left was mostly melted chips of ice. 

“S’not so bad,” Ed slurred, or Roy thought he did. He couldn’t really be certain because the room seemed awfully lopsided, and it was distracting his ears. Eventually he registered that _he_ in fact, was lopsided, and he righted himself just in time to have another glass shoved into his hand. 

“What?” he asked around the shot glass, knocking it back with all the awareness he had for breathing. 

“This,” Ed explained, or tried to. Mostly it was a lot of overly enthusiastic arm waving, flapping desperately when his chair started to tip back. Roy was laughing before he could quite help himself, subjected as a result to a rather angry, ineffective glare. 

“I…take it back. ‘S awful hanging out with you, f…ucking laughing and shit,” Ed grumbled, his words slow, as if the alcohol had put a wall between Ed and the majority of his vocabulary. Roy’s head spun and the room _reeled_ , and all Ed’s complaining only made Roy laugh harder. 

“Not like it’s _my_ fault you’re ridiculous,” Roy argued smoothly, in his mind anyway. Ed was looking at him like he’d grown a second head, so what actually came out was possibly debatable. 

“You’re just… just…” Ed abruptly stopped. His cheeks, already liquor flushed, were positively crimson, as if his body at least remembered how to be embarrassed. His eyes were wide as saucers for a split second before falling to half mast. 

Maybe it was the alcohol. Ed licked his lips and left them damp and slightly parted, and Roy’s attention was utterly glued. He swore it was the alcohol because Roy really couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted so badly to lean over the table and kiss someone senseless. 

It wasn’t an _entirely_ new idea. The fact that, in the months before his contract had come up, Ed had begun to grow into himself, had not entirely escaped Roy’s notice. Eighteen and finally bereft of the baby fat that had rounded out his jaw a bit, Roy could even admit that Ed was rather stunning, much the way a storm on the horizon was, pretty to look at and terrifying to think about reaching out to. Roy had rather pitied anyone who might get caught up in Ed’s gaze, unaware of the demon that wielded it. 

Only now, the bar was closing, and Ed was sort of wobbling to his feet, his human hand held out to Roy. His lips wound into a sloppy, drunken grin, but the look in his eyes shot straight down Roy’s front, pooling hotly in his belly. He took the outstretched hand, like he didn’t know _exactly_ what he was getting into. 

“Should prolly go,” Ed murmured, his words tumbling lazily over each other. There was some sort of protocol for this, Roy was vaguely sure, but nothing ever seemed to apply to Ed when he was sober, let alone completely and utterly drunk. 

Apparently, protocol was that Ed grabbed his hand like it was nothing strange at all, and summarily dragged Roy out of the bar and down the street. It was a block past the bar when Roy found his feet with anything remotely like steadiness. Another block flew by before he puzzled out making his mouth work again, “Where are we going?”

Ed waved ahead with his free hand, at what might have been anything. “Not far. My place is… is… not far…”

Ed was grinning, honest and worry free, like he so rarely did sober. He bumped against Roy, and it might have been an accident the first time. The second time, he stayed put, his body warm where it pressed to Roy’s arm. 

Alcohol was such a funny thing. Somewhere, there was a sane, sober Roy Mustang whose chest tightened a bit at the way Ed drunkenly beamed while trying to simultaneously wrap around him and push him down the sidewalk. That part was determined to make his mouth say that perhaps they ought to take a rain check until they were both sober enough to think this through. His mouth seemed to be otherwise preoccupied before he could get it to say anything of the kind. Ed’s lips gave easily with a low, guttural moan. 

How they actually made it to Ed’s apartment was beyond him. There was some stumbling up the stairs, a pause to lean against the wall when Ed’s neck was too enticing, and Ed’s breath panting in his ear. They practically crashed into the door and Ed was doing his best to laugh and hiss at the same time. “Shhh…. You’re being too loud, gonna wake up Al.”

The apartment was dark, but even inebriated, Ed seemed to know the way. He attacked Roy’s jaw with lips and teeth, shoving at him until they were both moving towards what was apparently Ed’s bedroom. There was no finesse, only drunken enthusiasm and they rounded a corner and nearly tumbled to the floor. 

Roy himself was too drunk to care that Ed’s fingers roamed with no purpose, tugging impatiently at his shirt. He noticed only peripherally the way the buttons were yanked loose. Then there were teeth, sharp and the junction of Roy’s neck and shoulder, and he whimpered, clutching at Ed’s shirt. 

“Shhh,” Ed growled, scaling Roy’s body and tipping them back. They fell in a heap on the bed that threatened to snap the whole frame, but Ed seemed oblivious. He trapped Roy’s hips between his knees, offering up another messy kiss. 

Roy wrapped his arms around Ed. He dragged him down until the fabric of Ed’s tee-shirt rubbed against Roy’s chest, drawing a sharp hiss from between his teeth. With his hands fighting for purchase beneath it, dragging over warm, smooth skin, it was hard to remember he’d been in a terrible mood just hours ago, let alone what for. 

He abandoned Ed’s lips to suck at his pulse, teeth scraping the column of Ed’s throat. Flesh and metal fingers clawed at his arms as Ed struggled to steady himself, shivering against Roy. Sharp curses tumbled off his lips at each press of Roy’s teeth against skin. 

“Whatever happened to quiet?” Roy asked, his voice nearly muffled against Ed’s throat. There was a delay as Ed tried to string together a response, and Roy used it to roll them over, pinning Ed to the mattress. 

“Oh shut…shut up,” Ed growled out, the words punctuated by a moan that wasn’t remotely quiet as Roy hiked his shirt up, the flat of his palm skating across a nipple. “I can’t _help_ it.”

“I could stop,” Roy whispered against Ed’s ear, even as his fingers dragged eagerly down Ed’s belly. It was a lie before it ever fell from his lips, but whatever he’d been drinking had stolen any censor he had. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Ed snapped, squeezing his eyes shut and arching up against Roy’s body and straying fingers. His own hands found their way to the belt of Roy’s pants, clumsily working it free. 

Eventually, Ed’s stomach disappeared into the inviting dip of his hips that slid beneath the waist of his pants. Roy was helpless but to follow, plucking at the button until it came free. Ed didn’t so much as hesitate, lifting his hips and glaring at Roy like this should have happened ages ago. 

It was hard to tell if they were fucking or fighting, save for the moments where Ed’s hips rubbed sinfully up against his and Roy couldn’t breathe. Their movements were clumsy and stilted still with alcohol, and Ed’s fingers were vises against his skin that promised to leave bruises tomorrow. Still, for all the world had frowned on Roy this week, right this moment was utterly perfect. 

They shed the last of their clothes between frantic swipes of hands and mouths. Ed clung like he was made to be there, only letting go when Roy flipped them over, assaulting every inch of skin he could reach with wet kisses and sharp teeth. Ed’s stomach muscles twitched beneath Roy’s tongue, and he cursed at the ceiling as Roy lapped at the hollows of his hips. 

Roy drew his tongue along the length of Ed’s cock from base to tip and Ed howled, all thoughts of silence long since forgotten. He cursed appreciatively, mismatched fingers scrabbling at the bed sheets as Roy pulled the head of his cock between his lips. Ed’s hips snapped forward of their own accord, alcohol dulling his control too much, until Roy was shoving him back down to avoid being choked. 

“I don’t have ummm…” Whatever Ed meant to say dissolved in a low, pleading whimper as Roy bobbed his head. Roy felt human toes curl against his hip as Ed dragged his fingers across the blankets. 

It couldn’t last long. Between the alcohol and their own desperation, it was a miracle they got this far at all. Roy felt Ed tense beneath him seconds before Ed was yowling his name and clawing at the bare skin of his back. Warm, sticky liquid hit the back of his throat, but drunkenness left him too mindless to care too much. 

Ed’s eyes were already half shut as he let out a stuttered, sated moan. He dragged at Roy anyway, gathering enough coherence to pull him close, if nothing else. A spit slicked hand wrapped around his length, and Roy was still just trashed enough for it to feel like magic. 

A few quick jerks of Ed’s hand had him spiraling into nothing, coming hard over Ed’s fingers. He bit down on Ed’s shoulder, coherent enough to at least sort of try to muffle the shout trying to work its way free. Perhaps teeth on Ed when Ed was half asleep was not the best thought out solution though, considering it earned him an irritated hiss and a thwack against his arm for the trouble. 

He wasn’t at all certain how long they lay like that, sprawled together across Ed’s unmade bed. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the room had stopped spinning by the time Ed finally reached to pull the covers up around them. That small act could mean a lot of things, that Ed _wanted_ him here, even now that he wasn’t entirely drunk, that maybe this was more than just a roll in the sheets. Not yet ready to face everything that promised to be on his more sober self’s plate, Roy chose to interpret it as Ed was tired and planned to sleep whether Roy was there or not. 

Roy rolled over, trying to get comfortable, and hopefully asleep by the time he could no longer define himself as at least tipsy. He let his eyes drift shut, a careful distance between them, just in case Ed wasn’t terribly happy to see him in the morning. It seemed like the most ideal solution.

Ed was having none of it. He scooted closer, half draping himself across Roy’s back until his mouth was all but touching Roy’s ear. If there’d been any fear of animosity from Ed in the morning, it bled away into a tired sort of relief as Ed grumpily whispered at him, no trace of drunken slurring left in his voice. “Next time, you’re at least fucking buying me dinner first.”


End file.
